A Moral Dilemma (Please Invest!)

P.S.: This chapter's morality may be questionable. Please read with caution.

Salomon's wounds gradually healed beneath the faint white light. Positive Energy worked exceptionally well on external injuries. Within seconds, his wounds stopped bleeding, and fresh flesh slowly grew back, forming new muscle and skin.

"I'm afraid I can't keep our agreement, Mr. Barnabas." Ignoring Elizabeth's gun and Victoria's threats, Salomon remained kneeling as he spoke to himself. "Unless you let them leave now, I can refrain from harming them. Aren't you coming out, Mr. Vampire?"

He had kept his trump card well hidden and had not played it until now, which was why he was confident he could threaten the Vampire.

It was a move that could decide victory or defeat quickly, but its destructive range was simply too great. He truly did not want to drag the living members of the Collins family into this—they had only wanted to help their family, and Salomon could completely understand their thinking.

Had he been in their position, he might have acted even more ruthlessly. Elizabeth had shown considerable restraint by merely pointing a gun at him instead of immediately shooting him in the head.

Elizabeth had only managed to hit him before because she had caught him by surprise. Now that she had stepped into the open, Salomon was confident that even without defensive magic, he would not be hit again.

"Shut up!" Victoria flew into a rage at Salomon's threat. "You hurt him so badly..."

"All right, I understand." Salomon opened his eyes and uttered a syllable. The next instant, silver mist enveloped him again.

Bang! Elizabeth immediately fired, but the shot only sent dirt and grass clippings flying. Salomon had already vanished.

"Where is he?!" Caroline shouted. Victoria and Elizabeth nervously looked around, while David held up his pistol with both hands and aimed it at the pitch-black bushes. That place frightened him terribly; he kept feeling that something might leap out from there.

He was now glad that he had sent Willie out of the estate beforehand to meet the fire department at the gate.

A drunken old man was hardly suited for such a dangerous situation. No one would be foolish enough to put a gun in his hands.

After quite a while, just as they thought Salomon had left, a ring of orange-red sparks appeared out of thin air on the gray stone path behind them. Salomon stepped out from the circle.

Perhaps those with more delicate hearts had slightly more accurate instincts. David's intuition had not been wrong—Salomon really had been in those bushes earlier. He had opened a portal there and retrieved something, which he now held in his hand.

It was a round bronze shield with a faint golden sheen. Its cast-bronze surface bore vague patterns like snake scales. Four diamond-shaped motifs sat at its cardinal points, while at the center was the bronze head of a woman. Snake hair extended from that face, twisted in extreme agony, toward the edges of the shield.

Elizabeth fired without hesitation. The rapidly scattering metal pellets were all blocked by the shield Salomon raised before himself. Deformed bullets sprayed sparks in every direction, yet failed to leave even the slightest dent in the bronze shield. She fired again, with the same result. Even the kinetic force of the shotgun blast could not force Salomon back a single step.

This was Aegis, the shield of Zeus, the goatskin shield, Medusa's shield. No matter what other names it bore or what tales surrounded it, its greatest power lay in Medusa's head. Ever since Perseus had severed it and Athena had set it into the shield, this shield had possessed tremendous power. Whoever looked upon it would turn into stone.

Salomon snapped his fingers, and four bright white orbs circled the shield. He lowered his head and silently recited the incantation Athena had taught him.

Where he could not see, Medusa's agonized bronze head suddenly opened its tightly shut eyes. Those eyes rolled about as though they were still living flesh and blood. With several soft clinks of bronze, the snake hair broke free of the shield's restraints, writhing wildly and spitting venom.

He heard screams. He heard people calling one another's names—Victoria calling for Barnabas, Elizabeth calling for Caroline, Caroline calling for David. Every voice tangled together. But soon, the cries stopped. Salomon still kept his head lowered, unmoved. Only after quite some time did he lower the shield.

Four exquisitely detailed statues stood in the darkness, their faces frozen in vivid terror and disbelief. Victoria had tried to throw herself at Salomon. Elizabeth had shielded her daughter Caroline. Caroline had pushed David aside, trying to get him away from here.

But no matter what they did, once they saw Medusa's head on the shield, they would irreversibly turn to stone. Their clothes and even their firearms fell within the petrification's range.

This was an almost irreversible process.

It was different from ordinary petrification. Even the spell Dispel Magic would have difficulty undoing their condition. Unless the Sorcerer Supreme or Athena herself cast the spell, they would remain statues forever.

Calling it petrification was less fitting than calling it a curse.

When Salomon took out the shield, he hesitated for a moment. The Collins family had done nothing wrong; they had only wanted to protect their family. Was this really right? But in the end, he made up his mind and raised the shield before the Collins family, because they now stood in the path to his objective.

It was difficult to say that Salomon's thoughts had not been influenced by the memories within the Holy Marks. As he accepted those memories, their cold and ruthless ideas constantly affected and changed him, driving him to make certain decisions and dragging him from the greenhouse into a bloody battlefield.

For instance, now that the other members of the Collins family had attacked him, he had abandoned the idea of sparing them. As long as they stood in his path toward his target, he would treat them as enemies as well.

In the past, The Venerable One had told him that walking this path required paying a price. At the time, he had believed that price could be avoided with spellcasting materials. But now he understood that the price she spoke of was not material. Just as with the old wizard who saved the girl, it meant using life to save life.

And that was only the simplest, crudest price. As one of The Venerable One's primary students, Salomon would have far more to abandon.

Then what is the price I have paid? Salomon thought. My conscience? Or my empathy?

When he tried to explain himself, he realized that no matter how he put it, his words were pitifully weak.

After all, in some contexts, what he had done could still be explained as a mage battling an evil Vampire.

Barnabas had indeed killed innocents to obtain blood, and the Collins family had been his accomplices. But even Salomon himself did not believe such words—the Vampire certainly deserved punishment; that was his position as someone from Kamar-Taj. But the other members of the Collins family were innocent.

Take David, for example. Even now, he was still only a shy, overgrown child.

This was a classic moral dilemma.

The Salomon of the past could have stood safely on dry land with a phone in hand, passing judgment from afar. But when he truly faced such a situation, Salomon discovered that this might be the hardest thing in the world, because no matter what he chose, it was wrong.

To destroy the Vampire, he had to strike at the Collins family. To give up on destroying the Vampire would betray his own position.

But since he had made his decision, there was no room for regret. Now, he only wanted to hear The Venerable One's opinion on this matter. The Sorcerer Supreme, who had lived for a thousand years, must have encountered such things more than once. She would surely be able to give him a perfect answer, surely be able to resolve his doubts.

"You did this." A cold voice sounded beside Salomon. "They're dead?"

Salomon swiftly cast aside his tangled thoughts and turned toward the voice. "Yes." He nodded expressionlessly. "I did all of it."

"Why?!" The Vampire, who always tried to maintain his composure, finally lost control of his anger. Barnabas's face had only partially recovered. His cheeks were still a mangled mess of flesh, with scorch marks scattered across his cold skin. Salomon's fist, infused with Positive Energy, had dealt him immense damage, even burning away Barnabas's eyeballs.

Before this, Barnabas had nearly lost consciousness. Only after his eyes had fully regenerated and he heard Victoria calling out had he barely managed to run out of the house before the fire reached it and arrive here.

Salomon did not answer. But after several deep breaths, the Vampire regained his calm.

"Everything I did was for the Collins family, yet you destroyed it." The Vampire spread his arms. "Now, you can destroy me. Raise that shield! Treat this as your glorious achievement! Hang this medal on your chest! I will laugh at you, Salomon. You. Will. Never. Forget! Faithless one!"

When the firefighters followed old Willie into the estate, nothing remained here but the burning manor.

This chapter mainly worries me because its values may not align with the readers'. But it's fine—you can wait for my explanation in the next chapter.

P.S.: The shield is a round shield, roughly as tall as a leg. It is a full size larger than Wonder Woman's shield, about the size of the ones in Sparta.